John in Wonderland
by theangelshavemymind
Summary: John finds himself in a mysterious place called Wonderland. Everyone he knows seems to be here, but they are all slightly different. Mostly funny crack. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story is much more enjoyable if you have seen Disney's _Alice in Wonderland_. It's mostly crack I suppose, but I hope you enjoy it!**

**Reviews are appreciated!  
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John Watson awoke to the sound of eating. Blinking his eyes, he propped himself up on an elbow and peered up into the face of the man standing over him.

He was a tall man with blonde hair that stuck out under the cap he was wearing. He was dressed in a smart waistcoat. His blue eyes sparkled in the sun, his mouth, full of the carrot he was munching on, was turned up in a friendly smile.

"Uh, hullo," John said, getting up.

"Hi!" the man said, extending a hand, "Sebastian."

"John." The man shook his hand warmly.

He cocked his head to the left and surveyed John, nibbling on the carrot in his left hand.

"Can I help you?" John asked.

The man shook his head. "Just observing. I better be getting back anyway." He pulled out a large pocket watch. Checking the time on it, he mused, "Yup. I'm late. Bugger." he tipped his hat to John, "Goodbye John!" Then he was gone.

John looked around him. Where was he? And where was Sherlock? Hadn't they just been staking out a house for a case? And now he was in a deserted field, with no one around apart from the man with the carrot. Maybe he would know what happened to Sherlock.

John scampered after him. Sebastian was far ahead, stepping lightly through the grassy meadow. He stopped by a large tree, looked behind him and then disappeared near its roots.

John made it to the tree. There was no sign of Sebastian, just a hole in the ground near a gnarled root. The man had to have gone in the hole.

Crouching down on all fours, John peered into the hole. It appeared to be some kind of rabbit hole, dug deep under the tree. The entrance was large and a man could easily sip down into the hole, but John knew not where it led, and he didn't fancy soiling his jumper. Instead he yelled into the hole.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where I am?" No reply. John leaned a little further into the hole. "Hullo?" He leaned further, peering down into the darkness, clutching the tree root for support. Still no answer. "Can you hear me?"

He leaned again and his grip on the root slipped. He tumbled head first into the hole, down into the darkness. His jumper was defiantly going to get soiled.

He fell through the darkness for some time before he began to suspect that this was no normal hole. It kept going. He was starting to think that he might fall through the black forever, when suddenly the tunnel was filled with lights, actual lights.

All along the dirt walls of the tunnel there were lamps and lights from different decades. John spied a couple of gas lamps and a strobe light. Suddenly the dirt walls became wallpapered. The wallpaper turned into tiles and John found that he could see a floor, it looked as though it were miles away.

A ticking noise met his ears and he saw that he was surrounded by clocks. Grandfather clocks, digital clocks, tiny clocks, big clocks, all ticking away and all showing different times.

As soon as they had appeared they were gone and the chamber was filled with silence. John looked down and saw that the floor was rapidly approaching. He prepared himself for the bone crushing finish to his fall, but it never came. Instead he landed lightly on his bum.

He looked up into the tunnel. He thought he could see the hole that he had fallen through, but he dismissed the idea as crazy.

Getting up he looked around. He had fallen into a small circular room. There was nothing in it apart from a tiny door, which appeared to be locked.

John went over to the door and inspected it. It would be a tight squeeze, but he could fit through it. If only he could find the key.

As if the room had read his mind, a glass table suddenly appeared, a black key sitting atop it. John went over to the table and grabbed the key. A small bottle sat next to the key. He picked it up with his other hand, reading the note pinned to it: _Drink Me_.

John's eyebrows furrowed. Drink me? He opened the bottle; a delicious smell met his nose. He put the bottle up to his mouth and let the liquid touch his tongue. It tasted sweet, like sugar. It didn't taste like poison, and John found that he was suddenly very thirsty. He figured that it couldn't hurt to take a sip.

As soon as he had swallowed the mouthful of liquid he began to feel strange. There was a tingling sensation throughout his body and his vision was off. The room appeared to be getting larger. No. He was getting smaller.

John gasped as he realized he was shrinking. The key fell from his hand, being far too large for him to hold now. He continued to shrink until he was no larger than the key.

The door loomed above him. There was no way he could unlock it now, seeing as he was barely bigger than a fork. He sat down next to the key and began to think.

This had to be a dream. There was no other possible explanation. He hoped he would wake up soon, because he was getting very bored.

"Yoohoo!" A voice cut into his thoughts. He looked in the direction of the speaker, but all he saw was the door. The door?

The door suddenly had a face. And not just any face, on the door, was the face of Mrs. Hudson.

"Hullo, dear!" Mrs. Hudson said, her wooden face all smiles.

"Mrs. Hudson?" John said, looking up into her face.  
"Who?" She looked past him at the bottle of liquid and mused, "You drank that infernal thing, didn't you? I always get the ones who fall for that. Well that key will be of no use to you now, love. So sorry."

"So I'm stuck here?" John asked.

"Perhaps not. You could squeeze through my lock." She looked down at the lock which made up her left cheek.

John peered up at the lock. It was an old style lock, the keyhole the classic shape. If he could jump high enough he might be able to reach it. He tensed his muscles and jumped. His fingers caught hold of the bottom of the hole, and he pulled himself into it.

"Good jump, dearie!" Mrs. Husdson's voice echoed around him. "Now just climb through.

John obeyed, trying not to think about the fact that he was climbing through the lock of a door that resembled his landlady. He came out on the other side of the lock and dropped to the ground. Mrs. Hudson's face appeared on the other side of the door.

"The mushrooms will help with the size difference," she said giving him a smile, "Good luck, dear!" Her face disappeared and John was left staring at the back of the door.

He shook his head. Mushrooms that change your size? Mrs. Hudson as a door? This was one heck of a dream, if it was a dream at all.

Turning around John found himself facing a large forest. But it wasn't a forest at all, it was blades of grass, so tall compared to John that they looked like giant redwoods. Rolling up the sleeves of his jumper, John was about to venture into the giant blades when a voice came from behind him.

"Oi! Did you follow me here?"

John turned around. It was Sebastian, but there was something strange about him. Not only was he now the same size as John, but in place of his cap were two large, fuzzy, white rabbit ears.

Sebastian stepped closer to John, pointing a finger at him and remarking, "Why did you follow me?" John could see his whiskers twitching. Whiskers?

"I, uh, I fell down the hole and ended up here," John said, trying not to stare at Sebastian's ears.

"You fell down the hole, did ya?"

"I did. Sorry, but can you tell me where I am and how I can get back to, uh, well, reality?"

Sebastian shook his head, making his ears flop about. "No can do. You're on your own. I'm still late and I have to be off. So good day!" He gave John a slightly buck toothed grin and then bounded away into the grass forest.

John tried yelling after him, but it was all in vain. Sebastian the rabbit man was gone. John stared up at the grass. He would have to find his own way out of this strange world where doors talked and men were half animal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright. Chapter 2. I know that there are at least 4 people (or aliens, or dogs, or air particles, or whatever else you may be) reading this. Review please! It gets more interesting. Promise! Sherlock comes in the next chapter...**

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John took a deep breath and plunged into the giant blades of grass. He wandered about for some time, trying to get his bearings, but all he could see was green. Strange creatures weaved in and out of the grass or flew overhead. What looked like a miniature dragon flew by his ear, hissing and blowing a puff of smoke into his face. He coughed and then he could see more smoke drifting above the grass. He headed toward it in hope that it might be some sort of dwelling.

The smoke, however, was not coming from a house; it was coming out the end of a giant hookah, which a large, blue caterpillar was smoking. The caterpillar was stretched out over an enormous mushroom, its long body curled under itself like a chair. Tiny golden shoes adorned its many feet, which turned into elegantly gloved hands further up the body. Its face was turned away from John.

John ventured closer to the mushroom saying, "Excuse me, but can you help me?"

The caterpillar turned around and John's eyebrows shot up. The insect greatly resembled Mycroft Holmes. It had the same long nose, and beady eyes, which squinted at John as the caterpillar spoke.

"Who are you?" Its voice was definitely Mycroft's. Complete with the same sneering tone that John always found so annoying.

"Uh, I'm John," John replied, staring at Mycroft the caterpillar.

"And what are you doing here?" Mycroft said, blowing a puff of smoke in John's direction.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" On 'know' Mycroft breathed a smoke 'o' into John's face.

Coughing, John said, "I fell through a rabbit hole and ended up here."

"And why were you by a rabbit hole?" Mycroft asked, one of his many hands tapping the hookah impatiently.

"I, uh, well, I was following a man. But he wasn't a man. He was a rabbit. A white rabbit."

"How can he be both a man and a rabbit? He is either one or the other," Mycroft sneered.

"I don't know," John replied, "And that's the least of my worries right now."

"Exactly what is your problem?" Mycroft asked, breathing out more smoke shapes.

John thought for a moment. Then he looked up at the giant blades of grass surrounding him and said, "Well, I should like to be a little larger."

"Why?" Mycroft said, staring down his long nose at John.

"Why? Because I'm hardly taller than six inches, and that's a bugger of a height."

"I am six inches high," Mycroft said angrily, "And it's a very good height indeed!" He puffed on his hookah angrily.

"I didn't mean it was a bad height," John said, putting his hands up defensively, "I, uh, I just don't think it's the best height for me."

"And why not?" Mycroft glared at John.

"Well, because I used to be taller, and I would like to return to normal."

"Good luck with that. No one is normal here." Mycroft chuckled and resumed smoking.

"Can you at least tell me how I could return to normal size? Mrs. Hudson, er, a door told me something about a mushroom."

"A mushroom?" Mycroft mused, taking a long drag from the hookah, "Yes I suppose a mushroom would help. But what makes you think I would tell you which mushroom?"

John sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Recite," Mycroft replied, looking expectantly at John.

"Recite what?" John asked.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. Then he sat upright and said with an air of importance, "How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail. And pour the waters of the Nile, on every golden scale. How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws. And welcomes little fishes in, with gently smiling jaws."

"What?" John said.

"Oh no one appreciates true poetry," Mycroft sighed.

"Oh, uh," John stuttered, "Actually I rather liked it. I didn't really understand it, but I found the imagery quite, um, effective." John smiled uncertainly.

"Never trust a flatterer," Mycroft sneered. "But do trust a Bandersnatch with a head cold."

"A what?" John asked.

"Oh just take the mushroom. You're giving me a headache." Mycroft plucked a piece from the mushroom he was sitting on and flung it at John, who caught it.

"Uh, thanks," John said, looking at the mushroom, "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Eat it of course," Mycroft yelled. He shook his head and then began to puff on his hookah with so much force that smoke enveloped the entire mushroom and John.

John ran, eyes watering, out of the smoke and into the giant grass again. He coughed a few times and then looked down at the mushroom. It couldn't hurt to give it a try? He took a nibble.

Immediately he began to grow, shooting up past the grass until he was quite himself again. He looked down approvingly and then tried to figure out where he was. He could see forests to his left and open fields to his right. He was about to venture into the fields, when he heard a voice say.

"Best be heading toward the forest. One can easily get lost here."

John looked in the direction of the voice. It was Mycroft. He had climbed onto John's shoulder and was sitting there, looking very annoyed.

"If you don't mind my asking," John said to the caterpillar, "Where is here, exactly?"

"Wonderland, of course, you dolt," Mycroft replied.

"Wonderland. Great." Wonderland? Certainly a fitting name for this place. John looked toward the forest. The trees were large and strange looking.

"Are you sure I should head to the forest?" John asked Mycroft, but the caterpillar was nowhere to be found.

John sighed and looked once more at the inviting field, before venturing into the dark forest. Mycroft was usually right about things, and John wasn't going to take chances here. Plus why should he be scared of a forest? He'd seen war; certainly a few trees were nothing to fret about.

He plunged into the dark forest, hoping that home was a lot closer than it felt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3! Sherlock time.**

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John had been wandering through the dark forest for some time, when he rounded a corner and suddenly found himself at a little, white gate. Glancing around him, he unlatched it and stepped into a large garden. Strangely cut hedges surrounded a long table, while multicolored lights hung from tree branches swaying overhead. The table was set for tea. At least ten different teapots sat upon it, all multicolored and steaming despite the fact that there was nothing heating them.

Six colorful chairs were positioned around the table. At the head of the table sat the largest chair, a maroon armchair upon which sat a tall, lanky man, whose legs were draped over an arm of the chair. A large, fraying top hat covered his eyes and most of his face, curly dark hair sticking out from under the brim. A white card which read "10/6"poked out of the hat, stuck in a dull red ribbon tied round the hat. His tight fitting clothes were covered with an array of patches, his pants red and black with vertical stripes, arms crossed over a purple vest, under which was an extremely stained, white, dress shirt, buttoned nearly to the top. His feet were clad in old boots; socks poked out of them and disappeared up his pants, both sported different colored horizontal stripes, the left covered in light and dark blue stripes and the right in red and yellow. His right foot moved up and down to an unknown beat.

To the strange man's left there sat a sleeping woman. She was petite, her feet barely reaching the grass beneath the abnormally tall chair she was seated upon. Her long, brown hair fell in front of her face, which was resting on the table, arms creating a makeshift pillow. Furry brown, round ears sprouted from her head. John could see a tail wrapped around a leg of her chair.

John noticed another person across from the mouse woman. He was a stocky man who also appeared to be part animal. Two long ears sat atop his head, and a fluffy, white ball of a tail sprouted from his rear. Whiskers grew from either side of his nose, upon which sat a pair of rimmed glasses.

He looked familiar to John for some reason. He sat in thought for a bit, and then it came to him. Mike Stamford. The rabbit man looked like his friend from Bart's. This really was the strangest day.

Cautiously John stepped forward and whispered, "Mike. That you?"

The man did not reply, instead John saw the man at the head of the table look up. He stared at John with icy blue eyes, familiar eyes.

John's mouth fell open and he gasped, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock's face broke into a wide grin, flashing brilliant teeth. He sprung up from the chair exclaiming.

"Guest! We have a guest for tea!" He laughed and then proceeded to step onto the table and walk toward John. Teapots, plates and table settings moved out of his way by their own accord.

He reached John and hopped off the table, landing lightly on his feet. He smiled again, a wild crazed smile that made his eyes twinkle.

Grabbing John by the hand he said, "Do sit down and stay a bit!" He led John to where the man who looked like Mike was sitting.

He prodded the man in the side and said, "Move, Hare. We have a guest."

The man looked over at Sherlock and then at John before moving reluctantly to the seat to his right. Sherlock deposited John in the now vacant chair and then skipped back to his. He hopped into it and then propped his feet up on the table, beaming at John.

John gave him a look and said, "Sherlock, what is going on? Why is Mike a rabbit?"

Sherlock looked confused. "Who's Mike? And who's Sherlock? More importantly who are you?" He sounded very much like Mycroft the caterpillar.

"It's me, Sherlock. John. And I'm tired of this. I just want to get back to the flat, have some tea, and sleep."

"Tea you say? I've got tea." He grabbed a nearby teapot and began pouring tea into a lopsided teacup. He handed John the sloshing cup. John took it, looking suspiciously at the brown liquid.

"It's not poisoned. We think." The woman had woken up and was now looking at John. She too had whiskers sprouting from her face. She gave John a shy smile.

"Oh do shut up, Dormouse," Sherlock said, glaring at the woman, who sank lower in her seat.

John recognized the woman now. It was Molly. He was having tea with a clearly mad Sherlock, Molly the Dormouse, and Mike the Hare. He half expected a dinosaur dressed in drag to show up.

"Would you care for sugar, John? It was John wasn't it?" Sherlock asked, offering him a sugar cube.

"Yes. It's John. And no thank you, I don't take sugar," John replied.

Sherlock nodded. "I don't take sugar either. Don't have to. Got plenty of it here." He grinned and popped the sugar cube into his mouth, sucking on it as he said, "Hare, do pass the tea."

Mike grabbed a flowery teapot and slid it over to Sherlock who poured its contents into the top of his hat, which was torn open so that it looked like a gaping mouth. John waited for the tea to come pouring down his face, but he remained dry.

"So what are you doing here?" Molly asked, her whiskers twitching.

"I thought I told you to shut up," Sherlock yelled. Molly squeaked and hid behind her hands. Sherlock turned to John. "Don't mind her. No one likes the Dormouse." He leaned in, whispering, "No one except for cats." He winked.

"Cat! Cat!" Molly shrieked. She wrung her hands and looked around, eyes wide with fear.

"There's no cat," Mike said calmly.

Molly shook her head, nervously playing with her tail she muttered, "Cats. Cats. Cats!"

"There are no cats!" Sherlock screamed. But Molly continued muttering.

"JAM!" Sherlock cried, holding out a hand. Mike grabbed a spoon. Opening a jar to his left he scooped out a heaping spoonful of purple jam, which he handed to Sherlock.

Sherlock aimed the dripping spoon at Molly, yelled "Fire!" and flung the jam at her. It hit her in the face, splattering into her hair. Immediately she went quiet.

Sherlock nodded and then whispered to. John, "She freaks at the mention of you know what. Jam is the only way to shut her up." He licked some stray jam off his fingertips, before saying, "So, John, do you have a reason for being here? Or did you just drop in?"

John chuckled, "Dropped in. Quite literally actually."

Sherlock gave John another huge grin. "Wonderful! I love just dropping into places. Will you be staying long?"

"I'm not sure. I don't even know how I got here."

"Nobody does," Molly muttered. This time both Sherlock and Mike told her to shut up.

"I've been following a white rabbit," John said, setting his untouched tea down on the table.

"A white rabbit?" Mike said.

"Yeah. Relative of yours?" John asked looking at Mike's floppy ears.

Mike shook his head. "I should think not. He works for the King. Something I would never be caught dead doing."

"The King?"

"More tea anyone?" Sherlock said, brandishing a baby blue teapot and clearly trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Molly timidly said, "I'll take some, but just half a cup."

Sherlock poured her a cup, which he then hacked cleanly in half with a large knife. Amazingly the tea stayed in the half cup. Sherlock handed it to Molly as Mike said.

"The King of Hearts. Lives in the castle. He likes to-"

Mike was cut off by Sherlock who squirted him in the face with tea, saying, "We don't talk about him. Now are you sure you don't want more tea?" He offered John a pink teapot.

"I don't want any more tea, thank you." John said, pushing the teapot out of his face, "But I would like to know more about this King of Hearts bloke."

Sherlock frowned and said, "Trust me, John. You don't want anything to do with the King."

"I think I know what I want, and I want to see this King. I've been following his rabbit around and he might know how I can get home."

"We can tell you how to get to his palace," Mike piped up.

"We can, but we won't," Sherlock said.

"Why not?" John asked.

"Because he's dangerous and I like you and I'd hate for you to be in danger."

"Then come with me."

Sherlock cocked and eyebrow. "Come with you?"

"Yeah. Stop drinking tea and live a little. You can be my guide." John turned to Mike and Molly, "Or one of you could go."

"They don't want to go," Sherlock said quickly.

"So does that mean you'll go?"

"I guess." He smiled that insane smile, "Who doesn't like a little adventure?" John returned the smile.

Sherlock got up and readjusted his hat. He reached into his vest and pulled out a large, faded navy blue bow tie, which he tied round his neck with a flourish.

"Shall we be off?" He said, striding to the white gate and opening it. He started down the path.

John got up, but Mike put a hand on his arm.

"Be careful, mate. The Hatter's mad."

"Mad as a March Hare? No offense," John smiled at Mike whose whiskers twitched indignantly.

John looked toward Sherlock the Hatter, who was skipping down the path. He had suspected as much. He often thought Sherlock was crazy, and it turned out he was, at least here in Wonderland anyway.

"I'll be careful," John said, starting after Sherlock, "Better scat if I want to keep up with him, though."

"Cat?" Molly cried from the table.

Mike sighed. "Better get the jam." John exited the garden as Mike said, "There's no cat, you bloody idiot!"

Shaking his head, John ran after Sherlock, leaving behind the cries of "Cat!" from Molly, and "Shut up!" from Mike.


	4. Chapter 4

**Still hoping for some reviews...**

**Here's Chapter 4:**

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John and Sherlock made good time through the many forests and fields that Sherlock was leading them through. The crazy smile seemed to be a permanent part of Sherlock's features, quite different from the Sherlock John knew. This Sherlock was so strange, all energy and quite frankly madness. John tried to make conversation as they walked.

"So the Hare said that you were a Hatter?"

Sherlock nodded, the hole in his hat flapping open and closed. "I'm the best Hatter in Wonderland. My hats are known far and wide." He pulled out a measuring tape, which he circled about John's head remarking, "I could make you a fine hat for Sundays. I make the best Sunday hats."

"No thanks," John said taking the tape off his head, which Sherlock draped about his neck.

"Perhaps a Tuesday hat?" Sherlock grinned at John.

"Maybe, but I have to get home first."

"And where's that?"

"I have no idea."

"Well having an idea that you have no idea is an idea," Sherlock said, playing absentmindedly with a patch on his shoulder.

"What?" John asked, confused.

Sherlock's answer was cut off by a nasally cry of, "Who goes there?"

The path was suddenly blocked by two small, squat figures. They were a man and a woman clad in ridiculous outfits. Their pants were a bright red, pulled up well past their waists. Their yellow shirts were tucked in and white coat collars stuck out the top of their shirts, being so long that they reached down to their pants. They wore matching blue bow ties, and red caps with yellow flags on top, which blew in the soft wind.

"What do you want?" the man asked crossing his arms. John recognized him too. It was Anderson, and the woman was Donovan. John almost laughed. If his Sherlock could see this.

This world's Sherlock stepped forward and said loudly, "Step aside. This good fellow is off to see the king." He pointed to John.

Anderson looked back at Donovan, before saying, "You still can't pass."

"Who says?" Sherlock boomed.

"We do. Tweedledee."

"And Tweedledum," Donovan said, stepping forward and looping an arm with Anderson so that they formed a road block on the path.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He whispered to John.

"Come on. They won't stop us."

He started forward, pushing his way through Anderson and Donovan, who looked at each other and then at Sherlock, then back at John, before forming their blockade again.

"Come on, John!" Sherlock cried from behind Anderson and Donovan.

"Excuse me," John said, stepping between Anderson and Donovan. He went to go stand by Sherlock.

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at Anderson and Donovan, who both went into a frenzy, running about and wondering how they could have let Sherlock and John pass.

"Idiots," Sherlock mused as they started walking again. John smiled. At least Sherlock the Hatter still shared the same view of Donovan and Anderson.

Sherlock and John made it out of a forest and were surprised to find themselves at a quaint little house. It was red and white with a thatched roof and a round little door from which came Sebastian, holding his pocket watch.

"You!" John cried, running toward the rabbit man.

Sebastian looked at John. His whiskers twitched and he ran back into the house, slamming the door behind him. John ran up to the house, not bothering to see if Sherlock was with him. He wrenched open the door and looked around the interior of the house. Sebastian's white tail flashed as John saw him head up the stairs and to the second level of the house.

John shot up the stairs, and into the room that Sebastian had ducked into, but he was now nowhere to be found. John kicked at a nearby chair in anger. He was never going to get home.

There was a clunk. A box had fallen off the chair. John picked it up, examining it. It was small, a pastel pink and very light. He opened it. Inside were small cookies with the words, _Eat Me_, printed on them. John was about to set them down, not wanting to become insect sized again, when a thought dawned on him. What if these cookies were like the mushroom? Maybe they could make him bigger, so big that he could just pick up the pesky Sebastian and scare him into telling him how to get home.

He picked up a cookie and took a hesitant bite. Immediately the tingling sensation came again, and to John's horror, the room began to get bigger. The cookies had shrunk him again.

He looked around in panic. How was he supposed to get out of this? He couldn't even go down the stairs.

Suddenly the door was thrown open and a very giant Sherlock stepped in saying.

"John? Your rabbit fellow went out the back door. I'm guessing he's heading toward the castle. John?" Sherlock looked around.

"Down here!" John yelled, his voice barely s squeak.

Luckily Sherlock heard him. He bent down and picked up the tiny John by the back of his jumper remarking.

"A pocket John! What a splendid idea!"

"Very funny," John said angrily, crossing his arms and swaying slightly as he hung from Sherlock's fingertips, "Just get me a mushroom."

"Hungry are we?" Sherlock said playfully, cracking a smile that was nearly bigger than John. He placed John on the brim of his hat, saying, "Better hold on." John did, grabbing onto the fraying ribbon that was tied round the hat Sherlock started off, out of the house and in the direction of a meadow.

Riding Sherlock's hat was an experience. Sherlock seemed to skip rather than walk. He bounced up and down with each step, making John's stomach turn. Sherlock jumped a stump and John nearly fell. When they finally stopped, John's knuckles were white from holding on so tightly to the ribbon.

"Here's your mushroom," Sherlock said, setting John down next to a large mushroom, which John grabbed a fistful of and shoved it into his mouth.

He returned to normal size and brushed himself off, vowing never to eat anything else while in Wonderland.

They started off again, through more forests and meadows. Sherlock hummed as John tried not to think about a nice cup of tea and his chair that he could be sitting in right now had he been home.

They came to a fork in the path. One way led down into a dark forest, the other to a green pasture.

"This way," Sherlock said pointing to the forest path. John peered into the dark, he wasn't keen on venturing into a strange forest, but before he could say anything Sherlock was already down the path, walking fast.

John ran after him, but suddenly Sherlock was gone. John looked around. How could he just disappear? John trying calling for him, but there was no answer. Sighing, John sat down on a nearby rock and tried to think of his next move.

He hadn't been there long when a voice said, "Lost are we?"

John looked up. Sitting in a tree was Greg Lestrade. He, like Sebastian, Mike and Molly, was also part animal, but he was different. Furry, pink cat ears poked out the top of his head, a long, fluffy, pink and purple striped tail, fell from the branch he was resting on. His eyes glowed an eerie yellow and he smiled a smile that went from cat ear to ear and challenged one of Sherlock's.

"I asked if you were lost?" Lestrade asked, his tail moving back and forth.

"Uh, yes. I think I am. Can you tell me the way to get to the castle?"

"I can," Lestrade replied. He hopped lightly off the branch, landing on his feet and smoothing his tail down. He mused, "He did go that way."

"Who did?" John asked, hoping that Lestrade was referring to Sherlock.

"The white rabbit," Lestrade said.

"Oh so he went to the castle?"

"Who did?"

"Sebastian. The white rabbit. He went to the castle."

"What rabbit?"

"The white rabbit!"

"Went where?"

"To the, oh forget it," John shook his head, "Just tell me how to get to the castle."

"What castle?"

"The King of Heart's castle!" John yelled. Lestrade was certainly annoying in this world.

"Oh _that_ castle," Lestrade said. "You don't want to go there."

"Yes I do."

Lestrade sighed. "Suit yourself." He went over to a hedge that was near the tree. Pulling it aside he said, "It's just through here."

"Thank you," John said stepping past the hedge.

"Just keep your head about you, cause heads have a habit of rolling here," Lestrade said. Then he smiled, and disappeared into the dark forest. His white grin seemed to stay suspended in the air for a moment.

John shivered. He suddenly felt very cold. The hedge had given way to a large maze of many more hedges. Standing on tiptoe John could see the top of a tower which had to be part of the castle. John headed through a heart shaped hole in the maze, hoping that it would lead him to the castle, and ultimately home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5.**

**Reviews are still wanted!**

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John wandered around for a long time, slipping through all the heart shaped alleys and pathways in the maze, figuring that they would lead to the castle. He was right, and his efforts were rewarded when the castle loomed above him.

It was defiantly the castle of the King of Hearts. All the towers were topped with giant red hearts; the main doors resembled cards, four hearts in the corners. There were hearts placed randomly all throughout the ramparts.

John stepped up to the main gate and knocked loudly.

"Who goes there?" A cry came from the right tower that surrounded the gate. John looked up. Standing guard was a very square man. It took John a moment to realize that the man was a playing card. A 6 of Spades to be precise.

"I need to see the King," John yelled up at the guard.

"You _need _to?" The guard asked.

"Yes. It's important."

"Hmm. Okay." The guard disappeared for a moment and then the doors of the castle swung open. John walked through them, marveling at how easy it was to get in to see the King.

Another playing card guard met him. This one was an Ace of Clubs. A heart tipped spear was held in his hand. He spoke in a gruff voice.

"Follow me." He started off through the courtyard. John followed. The card man was completely two dimensional, apart from his hands and feet, which stuck out from the corners of the card awkwardly. His head was shaped like a club, the bottom two ends of the club were part of the card, while the head was the topmost bulb.

The card led John past heart shaped bushes covered with roses, and to another door that resembled a playing card. The guard went through the door which led into s massive throne room. Columns supported a domed ceiling, vines with roses circling them. The floor was an array of tiles that sported hearts, clubs, diamonds, and spades. At the front of the room was a giant heart shaped throne upon which sat a sneering Jim Moriarty.

He was sprawled out on the throne, one arm draped over the side, his legs spread apart slightly. He was dressed in a pied suit, alternating red and black. He had one red boot and one black one. A scepter was held loosely in his left hand, it too topped with a red heart. A large golden crown was perched atop his head, studded with heart shaped rubies. To his right was a smaller chair upon which sat Sebastian who was looking with distaste at John, whiskers twitching.

"You wanted to see the King did you?" Jim said, his Irish voice a purr.

"Uh," John replied, trying to tell himself that this wasn't the Jim that he knew, just a pompous king.

"Oh he's a smart one, isn't he, Sebby?" Jim crooned to Sebastian, lightly stroking one of the man's furry ears. He looked back at John. "Sebby tells me that you think we're going to help you get back home."

"Yeah, that's right," John mumbled.

Jim chuckled. "And are we going to help him?" He looked expectantly at Sebastian.

Sebastian pretended to think hard for a moment before shouting, "No!" They both burst into laughter. John crossed his arms. He was quite fed up with this Wonderland place.

"Excuse me you two," John said angrily, "I would appreciate if you would bloody well shut up and tell me how I can get home!"

"Did you tell the King to shut up?" Sebastian gasped, his whiskers quivering.

"Yes I did. So what?" John glared at the rabbit man.

"No one tells the King to shut up."

"Well I do. So shut up, your majesty." He did a mock curtsy.

Jim got up. Pointing his scepter at John he yelled, "Off with his head!"

"Off with my what? Oi!" Two guards seized John under the arms and forced him onto his knees. One of them raised a razor sharp, spade shaped axe. John's eyes were wide with fear. Lestrade's strange words suddenly made sense. His head really was going to roll.

He heard Jim and Sebastian laughing above him. He could almost imagine the guard raising the axe. He closed his eyes, preparing for death when there was a sudden shout from the entrance to the throne room.

"Don't let it go to your head John, but I am here to save you!" Sherlock's confident voice yelled from somewhere behind John.

The guards' grips on John's shoulders suddenly disappeared and he got shakily to his feet to see the guards staggering around, large hats pulled down over their faces. John looked over at Sherlock, who was now addressing Jim.

"You like games, yes? I challenge you to a game of croquet. If John and I win, we keep our heads, if you win, you get them. Deal?" John really hoped that Sherlock's plan was more than just playing a game for the chance to keep their heads.

Jim thought for a moment and then said, "Very well, Hatter. I accept your challenge. Sebby and I against you two. But we play with my equipment."

"Fine," Sherlock said.

Jim smiled. "Then let the games begin!"

The King's croquet equipment was unlike anything John had ever seen. It consisted of his card soldiers, flamingos, and hedgehogs. The soldiers made up the hoops, the flamingos the mallets, and the poor hedgehogs the balls.

To begin with, the cards shuffled themselves and then went about the field, forming the hoops in various places. Jim was then handed two flamingos, one pink and one green, which were both squawking away and flailing about. Jim swung the flamingos above his head, examining each one, finally deciding on the green one, the pink was handed to Sebastian. Both Jim and Sebastian stretched the birds out and twanged them so that they were as stiff as a board.

Sherlock and John were given birds as well, orange and blue ones. Sherlock grabbed the blue bird, stretching and twanging it in the same manner as Jim and Sebastian. John attempted to do the same, but his bird refuses to go taught. It giggled and feathers blew into John's face. Both Sebastian and Jim sniggered at him.

Two hedgehogs were brought forth, one green and one pink, both curled up into tight balls. Jim took the green one and placed it in front of him. He prepared to strike it with his flamingo. He made a mad swing, which completely missed the hedgehog, but the spiny creature took off anyway, running madly toward the first card hoop and rolling up into a ball so as to roll through it. It continued on its way, rolling through every hoop, which it either made on its own, or th hoop hoped into its path so it could roll through it. It finally came to a stop and stumbled about.

All the playing cards cheered and Jim gave a bow, grinning. Sebastian was up next. He swung at the hedgehog, which started moving before his flamingo had even touched it. The cards formed a long tube this time, which the hedgehog passed through, but one card failed to get onto the end of the tube. He fell on his heart shaped faced with a thud. The other cards gasped.

"Off with his head!" Jim yelled, jumping up and down. The card was dragged away to the mutters of "Poor Carl." from his fellow cards.

Once the card was out of sight, the game resumed. It was now Sherlock's turn. Sherlock grabbed the other hedgehog and held it up, commenting.

"It looks a little like you, John!" Sherlock winked at him and John rolled his eyes.

Sherlock then set the hedgehog on the ground and prepared to hit it. He placed his flamingo on the ground, the bird's head near the hedgehog, then Sherlock wiggled his hips and did two practice swings before swinging and missing completely. The force of his swing made him spin about and his hat fall over his eyes.

The hedgehog flew down the field, rolling through some hoops, but mostly missing them completely. It came to a stop when it hit a tree, its small eyes rolling about in its head as it emitted a small squeak. The cards laughed and whispered among themselves

Sherlock shrugged and motioned for John to take his turn. John's flamingo was still being uncooperative. It fluttered about as he tried to hit the hedgehog and it took John the better part of five minutes to finally get it straightened out. He took aim, and swung with all his might.

The animal made it through nearly every hoop. The last card man moved out of the way slightly, so that the hedgehog missed it by a hair. John cried that that was cheating, but he went silent when he saw the cards begin to whisper.

Jim took his turn again, shooting the hedgehog through all the hoops and then bowing again. Sebastian's shot was no different. The hedgehog passed through all the hoops and the card soldiers cheered.

Then it was Sherlock's turn. John was unable to watch as Sherlock missed every hoop. John wasn't any better. He was seriously beginning to worry for the state of his head.

The game ended when Jim grew bored. Sebastian tallied up the points, declaring.

"The Hatter and John have lost! Off with their heads!"

"Off with their heads!" Jim echoed, laughing.

"But," John stammered, his voice shaky.

"But there must be a trial!" Sherlock yelled at Jim.

"And why would I let you have a trial?" Jim asked, plucking a feather from his flamingo, which squawked in pain.

"Why not?" Sherlock replied, flashing Jim a crazed grin.

Jim sighed and said, "Very well. A trial." he smiled, "And then off with their heads!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay. Final Chapter!**

**Thank you to TheFairyPrincessNinja-OcAbuser for the review!**

**And a big thanks to theimprobableone, who has reviewed so many of my stories. It's nice to know I have a fan. xx  
**

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The trial took place in grand hall lined by card soldiers. John and Sherlock sat in front of the King and Sebastian. Sebastian began reading a long list of charges, most of which John didn't even remember committing. Sherlock grinned through the reading, staring off into space as though he didn't even realize how serious the situation was.

"And lastly, for annoying the King in a game of croquet," Sebastian finished. He glared down at Sherlock and John.

"Are you ready for your sentence?" Jim asked, leaning forward in his chair, which towered above Sherlock and John.

"Sentence?" John said, confused, "Isn't there supposed to be a verdict first?"

"Sentence first, verdict afterward," Jim replied angrily.

"But that's not the way!" John yelled.

"All ways are my way, including this," Jim grinned, "Now off with their heads!"

"But my Lord," Sebastian said, tugging on Jim's sleeve, "We haven't called any witnesses." He twitched his whiskers, "I like witnesses."

Jim sighed but said, "Fine. Two witnesses. Then off with their heads!"

Sebastian clapped his hands together happily and said, "First witness! The March Hare!"

Two cards brought forth Mike, plopping him down in the witness stand. Mike looked unamused and quite frankly bored. He mimed a yawn.

"And what do you know about this unfortunate affair?" Sebastian asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

"Nothing whatever," Mike replied, crossing his arms.

"Nothing whatever?" Jim yelled.

"Nothing whatever!" Mike's whiskers twitched.

"Hmm. That's very interesting." Sebastian jotted a note on a piece of paper and then said, "Next witness! The Dormouse!"

Molly was brought to the stand, nervously holding her tail and biting her whiskers.

"What have you to say about this?" Jim boomed, impatiently tapping his fingers on his knee.

Molly swallowed and said softly, "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at! Up above the world you fly, like a tea tray in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at!"

"Very, very interesting," Sebastian said, writing more notes down.

"Don't write down anything she says," Sherlock said, glaring at Molly, "She's mad."

"You're one to talk, Hatter," Jim hissed, "Now shut up."

"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock cried, "I am most certainly not mad!" He crossed his arms and pouted.

Jim stuck his tongue out at Sherlock and then said loudly, "The witnesses have spoken. Off with their heads!"

"Not yet!" Sherlock cried, running to the witness stand. He scrambled up into it, adjusted his hat and said, "I have something to say."

"Well then say it," Sebastian said, his pen poised over his paper.

Sherlock stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth for a second before saying, "Thirty days have September," he stopped, "No that's not right. How is a raven like a writing desk? No that's not it either." He pulled off his hat to scratch the top of his head and then his eyes widened and he exclaimed, "Ah yes! Tea! Who would care for tea?" He pulled a teapot and cup from his hat and began pouring the tea into the cup.

"I told you he was mad," Jim said, "Off with his head!"

Guards came and seized Sherlock by the arms, dragging him toward a dark hall. He was yelling insane things all the while.

"But I haven't had time to do the Futterwacken! Surely there's time for that? Just a bit of time? Like a bit of jam? Jam in time saves nine! I say, tea and bats and cats! I spy a cat!" he cried, pointing in the distance.

"Cat!" Molly shrieked. She sprung from her seat and began running madly around the room, knocking over cards.

"There's no cat!" Mike yelled angrily.

"Oh, I do feel rather left out," a calm voice said.

All eyes turned to see Lestrade walking calmly down the twin lines of cards. He stopped before Jim and gave him an overemphasized bow saying.

"Your majesty, might I say something before you rid these two gentlemen of their heads?" He motioned to Sherlock and John, who was currently also being dragged off by guards.

"What have you to say?" Jim asked, putting up a hand to stop the cards from taking Sherlock and John to their gruesome fate.

"Oh I was merely going to say that you're a fat, pompous, bad tempered old tyrant." He grinned.

"I agree with that sentence!" Sherlock cried, springing from the guards and waving his teapot about like a sword, "Now who wants some tea!" On 'tea' he threw the pot at Jim, which shattered against the wall behind him, dousing him with tea.

"Off with his head!" Jim cried, leaping from his chair.

All hell broke loose in the courtroom. Molly was still yelling cat, Jim was chasing Sherlock, who was pulling full teapots out of every pocket he had and throwing them at Jim. Sebastian was yelling for order. Lestrade was jumping on the heads of the guards. Mike was muttering to himself. And John was stuck in the middle of it.

Suddenly Sherlock yelled at him, "John, you're snoring!"

"What?" John cried, knowing full well that he wasn't snoring and that snoring had nothing to do with what was going on.

"Stop snoring! It's bothering me!" Sherlock said, still trying to escape Jim.

"What do you mean I'm snoring?" John yelled angrily.

Then suddenly, the room began shaking. Cards fell over on themselves, the walls started crumbling and John could hear someone shouting his name. He shut his eyes, and then opened them again to find Sherlock staring at him.

"Finally," Sherlock said, going back to his chair, "I thought I'd have to blow something up to get you to wake."

"What? What happened? Where's your hat? And the cards? And the rabbit men?" The questions tumbled from John's mouth as he looked around the familiar sitting room of 221B.

"My hat? Rabbit men?" Sherlock said laughing, "Honestly John, what do you dream about?"

Dream? So that's what it was. John chuckled and said, "I have no idea."

"Well having an idea that you have no idea is an idea," Sherlock replied, looking cheekily at John. John eyes widened and the consulting detective gave him a sly wink before heading to his bedroom, yelling over his shoulder, "Goodnight, John!"


End file.
